On Frail Wings of Vanity and Wax
by Sarah Elmira Royster Poe
Summary: Words can't forgive me.
1. Applause

Applause

It is not fear. No it is not.

It is not love. No it is not.

It is not any of these simple and complicated things. It is not.

It is just nothing. It is just anything.

And that means that I can lay free and laugh at foulness, and scream at contentment, and live.

Because I could never do these things before.

And it does not matter that I never wanted to.

It feels glorious to be able to cherish goods that you have never asked for, fought for, cried for, and struggled for.

And it feels glorious to mock at fate, and play the devil, and become king, ruler and sovereign, where you were a mere peasant.

Because people are not what they are, but what they want to be.

_Can you taste his blood?_

_Can you feverishly search for the sweet sound of tears falling, trickling down his cheeks?_

_Can you hold the sound of silence dear?_

_Can you?_

_Liar._

_Can you paint the sky red?_

_Can you drink the sea?_

_Can you break the wings of an eagle?_

_Can you sing sweeter than the strings of a broken violin?_

_Can you?_

_Liar._

I can.

_Liar._

I can.

I CAN.

_Yes, you can._

_God help us, you can._

_God help me, you can._

God does not have his golden throne anymore, for I sit on his throne.

God does not stay in the clouds anymore, for they are scattered.

God…

_Yes?_

I am the dark cloud adorning a blue sky.

I am the rotten apple that spreads the mould and decay.

I am the foul singing bird that breaks the harmony of the morrow.

I am the broken key of the old piano.

I am the drop of blood on the white dress.

Can you call me a liar?

_Perhaps I can._

I fear. Yes, I do.

I fear and I cry and I love.

Deeply but shallowly.

Expecting something, someone, to take it away and destroy it.

The hated sentiment.

I could not find contentment in mediocrity, because I want to spread my broken wings and shadow the sun.

But I fear and I love.

I fear the Fall, and I love the earth, the solid ground.

If only I could untangle from my restraints and scream, roar at the winds.

I would become master of the fire, tame the seas, darken the moon.

Or I could make it shine brighter than ever. Strength and might at my side, determined to found my own "Reconquista", my own Crusade.

But alas, I will not. I will never fly to the golden sun, nor dance to the bright light of a day with a moon.

And I blame Them, not me. That is who I am. A liar, and a coward.

A fool.

Are you?

_No. _

I am everywhere yet nowhere. I exist when I am aware of myself. Oh Schrödinger would be so proud of me! Of his creation!

What a delightful paradox, I am! What an exquisite inconsistency!

I give nothing and take everything. I devour and destroy. Oh, let me breathe, let me create, let me…

_Are you lying again?_

Yes. Do you like it?

_Yes._

Of course you do. Everyone does. They do not clap, because they want to be fooled. They do not clap yet. They will not clap yet.

They are not content watching something disappear. They want the magician to bring it back.

_Do you listen?_

I hear the sound of the crashing waves at the rocks.

I hear the sound of the storm.

I hear the sound of a striking lightning.

_Yes, but do you listen?_

Of course I do!

I can hear the fluttering of a butterfly's wings.

I can hear a single tear falling.

I can hear your blood rushing through the veins.

_Yes. Do you listen?_

Should I?

As expected… Silence.

Hide in it. Let it engulf you. Let it consume you. You are afraid. You are alone. You love. You do not listen. You are the coward. You are the liar. Admit.

You are the adversary of the illusion. You are the accuser of the innocent. You are the executioner of the dead. Admit!

_I can only laugh._

At what?

_At the foolishness of creation. At the vanity of existence._

I take my bow. You should clap.

_I will clap. Just not yet._

You will.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.


	2. Bow

Bow

Beg.

_Please, do not make me._

But I already have.

_Yes._

Are you crying?

_Yes._

Crying is the most selfish expression of sentiment. You are crying only for your loss, not theirs.

_No. I do not cry for their loss._

Then, why do you?

_I cry for their happiness._

Yes.

_They should burn, and scream, and plead, and bleed, and…_

Die?

_No. Suffer._

Do you want to dance with me?

_No__,__ but perhaps I may. _

Come, all the world is a stage. Wear your most beautiful dress, let down your hair and smile at the sun.

_Yes, I should die beautiful._

Your body will be wrapped in velvet and silk, and flowers will adorn your hair.

_No. My body will be naked and will be torn apart by dogs._

Of course it will be. You were not fooled this time.

_No. Not this time._


	3. Coronation

Coronation

You are dead now.

_No, I am not._

Yes you are! Can you fly anymore?

_No. You are right. I am… I am dead. My wings…_

Your wings were sliced off your back.

_By whom?_

By your sword, by your hand.

_Yes. I remember now. I was flying in the dark. I was shadowing the moon._

Yes. And I was sitting on God's golden throne. I…

_You are lying again. We are both lying again. We were lying from the beginning._

Yes. I was. I lied. Every time I open my body, I breathe a lie.

_Could you give me your crown?_

Yes. No! Never!

_Give me your crown. You will be the knight at my coronation. You will resign your power; you will drop on your knees and declare your submission to your sovereign. Kiss my feet, and bow your head._

Take my crown and may God give you many sunshine days.

_Do I detect mockery in your voice? Speaking with derision does not suit you. It is not allowed to people of your kind._

I am a person with half a body, with half a hidden dream. They cut me and they let me live with my wound, with a bitterness in my eyes and a wind messing my hair. I climbed the stairs, and dizzy I fell. Heal me. Storms and winds battered me. Heal me.

_I cannot heal you. _

If anyone can, you can. Heal me.

_I do not want to heal you._

If anyone wants, you want.

_How would you know whatever my heart desires? I rule and Ι kill. I am hated, feared and worshipped. Yet you know my heart? _

Did you forget the years? The beautiful years? When you had flowers in your heart. Did you forget our love? Our beautiful love, that kept us warm in the freezing cold?

In you royal house, your humble house, I came to cry with bitter tears.

_The door was shut and the keys were lost. It was raining on the streets and it was raining in my empty heart._

You healed my after all.

_Yes. Yes I did. After all. I did._

Thank you.

_No you do not. Not really. You blame me. You did not want to be healed._

Stop my crying. That is not true. I wanted to be healed, I wanted to be redeemed. I wanted to…

_You do not have to lie to me. You do not have to pretend with me. Come here. Cry._

Cry for what?

I will cry for the years like rain in my empty life. Do not poison my soul. I will cry for the orphan years. Do not poison my heart.

Bring back the hours that were lost today. Watch, as you leave, the sunset that cries. Somewhere the sky darkens and the sun freezes, the road is lost. Where should I stand?

_Somewhere the sky darkens, but do not cry. It does not matter. Pretend the world ends here._

The wind takes my life today. I close my eyes, not to see as you leave.

Somewhere the sky darkens and the sun freezes, the road is lost. Where should I stand?

_Somewhere the sky darkens, but do not cry. It does not matter. Pretend the world ends here._

Look at the sun, an opened bud of a rose. Let me throw myself into your heart.

Without your heart, your little heart, how many years was I lost in the sea, in the waves?

Without your love, my love, I was bitter, I was tired. That is why I hurried to come back.

_I poured the sun into your cup; I leaked it drop by drop. And I sing in your name, in your honour._

Without your heart, your little heart, how many years was I lost in the sea, in the waves?

Without your love, my love, I was bitter, I was tired. That is why I hurried to come back.

_Wear your red dress, the one that makes you look like fire. Come, and do not mind the time. Youth is a gift that burns like the raging flames._


	4. Dainty

Dainty

Tell me. Tell me of your sins. I will not speak of them. I will not speak of your sins.

_I have no sins.__Not real ones. Not inhuman, not excessive sins. I lived a normal, boring, mediocre life. My sins do not worth the mentioning._

No, you are wrong. Tell me of your sins.

_I lied, manipulated, killed. I did obscene things._

You thought of thing obscener, though.

_Yes, but I was a coward._

You were. You did not indulge in them. You did not embrace them.

_Yes, but I wished to._

Why were you compelled by your cowardice?

_I… I tortured myself by abstaining from my most feverous dreams, my most disturbing visions and fantasies. I liked it. Yes, I did! Because…_

Because you liked the agony, you made yourself to suffer. You liked the denial, because your craving just flamed and blazed, you lust consumed you. You toyed with your own desires. Denied them to yourself for far more that you could bear, and when you gasped and writhed for release, you only tightened your bindings. You cherished the rare moments when you were left unleashed from your own restraints and savoured the moments of your short-lived freedom.

_Why are you telling me this? Why do you…?_

Because that is not ordinary. That is exceptionally brilliant, inventive, ingenious. This is inspired! I honour your name and stand in awe of your majestic mind!

_I have a small heart, though. A small, grey, wrinkled, burnt, black heart. Do you stand in awe of that too?_

Trivialities! Why should I care about your heart? Why? Do you define your self-worth from the state of an atrophic organ?

_Doesn't everybody?_

You are not common. You are not vulgar. You are not weak, licentious. You are not "everybody". You wear my crown now.

_I wear my own crown now._

Of course.

_Do not forget that. I wear my own crown._

* * *

_I pass the streets, waiting for a smile, the wings of a pigeon to envelop me. Maybe I wait for the sky to turn violet and the people to turn into beautiful statues. Maybe I wait for the rain of feathers to drown me. Maybe I wait for the grey buildings made of stone to walk away and leave the ground bare. Maybe I wait for the fountain to drown the sea. Or for the older lady to hold my hand and tell me my past. Or for the prince to come on his golden dragon._

_I am tired of waiting. I am tired of all the people dancing through the leaves, elusive and unsubstantial. I am tired of the river flowing backwards, crushing the stone and shaping the rocks. I am tired of the birds screaming with their horrid pleas of agony for the dawn to come. I am tired of the cloudless sky and the blinding sun that melts the iron and turns the brown earth to golden sand. _

_I plead a nameless god to drawn the sea and chop the wings off the unworthy birds. I plead the dear mothers to let the child hide behind their dresses. I plead the moon to embrace the little flying girl in the blue dress. I plead the stars to make the time stop and not to steal away the first breath of my childhood. _

_Let the words steal my first kiss. Let them dance through my body and cherish my ink stained hands. Let them claim my soul and let them bring tears of joy and sadness in my eyes. Let them bend reality and travel through time. And only then, I will be whole._

_Please forgive me. Can words forgive me?_


End file.
